


Snow on a Hot Barn (The Backdrifts in B Major Remix)

by kumquatix



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M, Remix, Remix Redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-14
Updated: 2010-05-14
Packaged: 2017-10-09 10:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumquatix/pseuds/kumquatix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are so many reasons why Merlin can't just grab Arthur and have his way with him, but Arthur makes it hard to resist the impulse. Merlin finds Arthur kind of frustrating, but also hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow on a Hot Barn (The Backdrifts in B Major Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lisztful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Backdrifts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/63392) by [Lisztful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisztful/pseuds/Lisztful). 



Arthur might be a giant prat, but he is an attractive one. Being trapped in a room with someone who keeps ordering him around and talking down to him would be really annoying if he couldn't surreptitiously check out his hot bod. Okay, it's still annoying anyway, but Merlin might as well make the best of it. And the way Arthur's shirt stretches over his broad shoulders and clings to his pecs is quite nice. Enjoyable, even.

Today Arthur is acting particularly prattish. He's bored and irritable, and insists on Merlin's company. Merlin shuts most of Arthur's whining out by concentrating on polishing a piece of armour, and glances up once in a while to pretend that he's listening, and to look at Arthur's arse sticking out temptingly when he leans in the window sill.

When Arthur's pouting starts interfering too much with Merlin's aesthetic appreciation, he gets fed up: "What is it, Arthur? Is there something you want me to do for you?"

Arthur looks horrified. "No!" he snaps, and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Well, that was weird. Merlin puts the vambrace and polishing rag down, and thoughtfully sticks his hand in his trousers. He thinks of the way Arthur keeps sneaking peeks of him, to be sure he has Merlin's attention, and the way he keeps needling him. Merlin holds his dick, and rubs his thumb deliciously over his cock head. He thinks of the way Arthur's fine, blond hair falls in his face, and the shape of his strong neck, and he starts jerking his hand up and down his dick. It feels great. Then he sort of loses his train of thought for a while.

Sometimes Merlin imagines grabbing hold of Arthur and kissing him, instead of letting him continue acting like a petulant child who is not certain if he wants Merlin's attention or not. But unfortunately, there are many reason why that would be a bad idea.

\---

Another day, Arthur suddenly loses all coordination of his hands, and can't lace up his shirt front, or so he claims. Merlin goes and does it for him. Very slowly.

He holds out Arthur's shirt, and pulls the lace loose, and sticks his tongue out between his teeth, and frowns deeply at the eyelets in the neck opening, but maybe the theatre isn't necessary, because Arthur closes his eyes and lets his head tip back. Merlin slowly inserts one end of the lace into one eyelet, and gets a good look down Arthur's shirt. His chest is truly a work of art, so cut and well-proportioned.

Merlin lets the back of his hand trail over Arthur's skin, as he sticks the other end of the lace into an eyelet on the other side of the shirt opening, and Arthur's breath hitches. Merlin manages to see Arthur's nipples peak, and his skin break out in goose bumps, and a faint rosy flush crawl up his chest and neck to turn his ears hot pink, and has groped Arthur's firm shoulder to turn him into the light, and tickled his chest hair, and breathed in his ear, and leaned his hip into Arthur's hip before the shirt is finally done up.

He is proud of his restraint in not trying to catch that bobbing Adam's apple with his mouth.

Arthur stares at him sort of glassily. Merlin stares back.

Then Arthur steps away, and turns to go. So many reasons, Merlin reminds himself.

"Oh, by the way," Arthur says in a deep, cracking voice. He stops to clear his throat a couple of times. "By the way. I want you to go to the stables and look at my bay mare. The groom says she's not eating well, and I want you to check if everything looks all right. You could go at eight o'clock. For example. To check on the horse." Then he hurries out, and slams the door behind him.

Merlin doesn't know anything about horses, and certainly less than the groom does. But if Arthur wants him to go to the stables tonight, he will.

\---

"Arthur wants me to go check on his horse for him," Merlin tells Gwen.

Gwen starts getting a dreamy look at her face at the mention of Arthur's name, but it collides with her dumbfounded look, and the result is kind of bug eyed. After a while she finishes lifting the spoon to her mouth, and swallows.

"Why would he want _you_ to look at his horse? Why doesn't he ask the stable master, if the groom doesn't know?" Gwen asks.

Merlin shrugs.

Gwen lights up. "It must be because he trusts you so much! Arthur isn't hung up on people's station, he believes in letting people take responsibility and he respects them for it." She looks happy at this thought.

Merlin thinks she has an overly romantic view of Arthur, but he also thinks she's probably right about this.

"Have you talked to him since last time?" he asks.

"Yes. He saw me coming out of Morgana's room this afternoon, and he said good morning. And he used my name." She laughs. "I probably shouldn't count that as talking with him. Just, sometimes there's this soft look in his eyes, and he kind of lingers instead of hurrying past."

Merlin nods, and gives her an encouraging smile. He hurries to eat the last of his stew. Gaius is doing rounds, so he brought his food over to Gwen's house so they could eat together.

"I've noticed that as well. He likes you a lot, Gwen," Merlin tells her. "But you have to keep in mind that Arthur is kind of a prat. He likes attention, but he doesn't know what to do with it."

Gwen wrinkles her nose at him. "I'm not likely to forget, after that thing with the flowers. Still, it's impossible not to feel fond of him."

Merlin agrees. He hopes everything works out for her.

\---

Walking to the stables feels nice, and Merlin takes off his kerchief and enjoys the cool crispness of the air, but stepping into the warm, well-lit stable where Arthur's mare is kept is nicer still.

He goes to her box, and has a look at her. Yes, that is indubitably a horse, bay in colour. The horse has her backside turned toward him, and is a mare. Merlin opens the door and goes in.

"Hi, horsie," he says, and creeps slowly along the wall in as non-threatening a manner as he can.

The mare, who has been following his progress with an ear, lifts her head from the crib where she has been enthusiastically inhaling oats and gives him a whuffle-snort sound in reply.

Merlin holds out his hand to her, and she lets him stroke her soft face for a while. Then she goes back to eating. "That's all right, then," Merlin decides.

Arthur's mare has the best box, warm and snug with horses on both sides of her, the hay loft insulating the ceiling, and far from the draughty door. Just in case of mistaken identity, Merlin walks along all the boxes, checking to see if there are any bay mares with a worrying lack of appetite anywhere on the premises, but there are none. He didn't think so; even if he can't reliably tell one horse from another, the horse whose dinner he walked in on seemed to recognize him.

The groom has gone home for the night, but when Merlin is practically out the door, he notices a pair of legs hanging off the edge of the hayloft. Whoever is sitting up there shifts when he sees Merlin looking, and clears his throat.

There are two lit lanterns hanging on either side of the door, and one for every horse box, and it's impossible to see into the gloom of the loft, but from the boots the person is wearing, Merlin guesses he is a stable boy.

"Looking for some fun?" the possibly a stable-boy offers in a strange, deep voice. He sounds like a boy trying to sound older than he is.

Merlin grins at him, while he thinks it over. He is kind of horny, thanks to Arthur's constant tease and deny. And it would be a relief to get some without having to try to figure Arthur out. And he can't think of any reasons not to.

"Sure!" he replies, and climbs up the ladder.

The loft is very dark and warm. Merlin walks carefully, not wanting to trip over anything and pitch over the edge, and aims for the rapid breathing of the boy, who is crawling into the hay judging from the shuffling, swishing noises he's also making.

"I'm Merlin," Merlin introduces himself, and feels around in the gloom. That is a leg. He follows the leg up to a crotch with a very hard cock trying to burst through the boy's rough trousers. Merlin starts untying the drawstring, and the boy makes a little whimpering sound and shoves into his hand.

Merlin straddles him. They boy's narrow hips fit perfectly between his knees, and the floor is comfortably cushioned by an even layer of hay. "Nice place you have here," Merlin compliments him, and leans down to kiss him. They manage without any awkward clacking of teeth, the boy accepting Merlin's guiding hand on his cheek with eager submission.

Merlin likes that. The boy's mouth tastes fresh and sweet, like chewed birch branches, and his stubble is short, just a slight prickle in delightful contrast to his soft yielding lips and tongue. Merlin spreads his legs further, so his aching prick can sink down against the boy's crotch. Fuck, yes, that feels good.

The boy thinks so too, if the way he's moaning and hanging on to Merlin's shoulders for dear life is any indication. Merlin rubs against him hard, the pressure and friction on his cock shoots sparkling pleasure all the way through him, from head to toe, and thrusts his tongue into his mouth.

"I'm going to take your clothes off," Merlin tells him when he breaks the kiss. He quickly pulls his own shirt off over his head, and sits up enough to push his trousers down and kick off his boots. Then he grabs the waistband of the boy's cheap, manure stained trousers and carefully works them down, trying not to snag them on his erection or tear the fabric, but the boy quickly takes over and kicks them off the rest of the way.

Merlin's eyes are getting used to the weak light, and he can see the faint glow of the boy's white skin. He is pretty sure he can find the boy's cock without fumbling around for it first, and to test his theory he leans down and gives it a wet, sucking kiss.

"Ahh," the boy moans loudly, forgetting to disguise his voice, and Merlin chuckles. He mouths his way up the hard dick, feeling the throbbing with his tongue, until he reaches the tip and sucks it into his mouth. It tastes like clean skin and Arthur's fine lavender soap, and licking it is an unmitigated pleasure. Merlin likes a man who plans ahead.

Merlin sucks him in as far as he can, then slowly pulls off, sucking hard and making his lips a tight seal, until he reaches the end with a pop. The man thrusts up against his closed mouth, and pulls piteously at Merlin's shoulders, but Merlin easily holds him down by leaning his whole weight on the man's hip.

"Did you bring any grease?" he asks him.

The man fumbles around with one arm, and finds a hard object which he bumps against Merlin's chest. Merlin takes it from him, and puts it down where he can find it again. Then he leans back down, and starts kissing his way up the man's trembling stomach, pushing his rough tunic up a bit at a time.

He tastes of sweat and lavender soap, and has a warm, familiar smell Merlin is as used to as his own. His stomach muscles are firm, his shoulders are broad, and there is that long, soft chest hair. He has always wanted to know if those little pink nipples are as sensitive as they look. They've certainly firmed up already, and when Merlin licks one, then rubs his raspy cheek against it, Arthur gasps and clutches him.

"Lift your arms over your head, so I can get this the rest of the way off," Merlin says, and Arthur obeys immediately. Merlin rewards him by pinching and rolling his other nipple, and enjoys the ragged sigh he gets in return.

Merlin finds the container of grease Arthur gave him. It feels like the little stoppered glass flask he keeps his aromatic oil in, and sure enough, when he pours a bit into his palm it releases the fragrance of rosemary. While an earthenware jar of goose fat would have added verisimilitude, this is certainly preferable, and Merlin won't complain.

He pinches the root of his cock with the fingers of his right hand, and tells himself sternly not to come, before he slides his oily left hand up and down his shaft lightly, but thoroughly. Then he puts his hand between Arthur's legs, greasing his inner thighs and taint, and giving his tight balls a gentle rub for good measure. Arthur seems to be holding back his orgasm by force of will and a firm grip on his prick, and Merlin can feel him shaking.

He pushes the stoppered bottle out of accidental reach. "Close your legs, and cross your ankles," he tells him, and again Arthur obeys without hesitation. Merlin lies down on top of him. Their heights are well matched, and he can easily reach Arthur's lips for a kiss, while he guides his cock in between his legs.

Arthur's muscular thighs give him the perfect snug channel to fuck into, and the sensation is so intense, Merlin can't tell if it is pleasure or pain, only that he wants. He can't hold back any more, and he doesn't want to; he lets his hips do the thrusting and his lips do the kissing, and just lets everything wash over him in dizzying waves.

Arthur tenses beneath him, squeezing him and thrusting up against him, and pulling on his buttocks to slam them back together again each time they pull apart. He sucks Merlin's tongue into his mouth, and swirls his own tongue around it. Arthur is not pretending that this isn't happening, and he's not running away, and it makes something shift inside Merlin; something red hot and aggressive wells up inside him.

Merlin can't hear their grunts and moans over the roaring of blood in his ears, he can't see the vague outline of Arthur over the dancing spots in front of his eyes, he can only feel him, warm and hard and slick and there for the taking. Merlin wants to slam into him, inhale him, pull his body so tight against his that they'll merge and he will sate the raging hunger inside him.

The friction against his cock finally reaches that perfect point and Merlin feels his orgasm rush through him, shaking his whole body. He collapses on Arthur in a limp heap, letting the buzzing pleasure wash over him in smaller and smaller waves, until he's floating in warm, fuzzy joy. Arthur lies still, breathing slowly and deeply, and he can feel the deep thump of his heartbeat under his ear. Their legs are tangled together, and Arthur's fingers are wound in Merlin's hair, and for once Merlin feels in perfect communion with him.

Merlin trails his hand softly down Arthur's stomach, to his dick, but it is softening and there is a pool of sticky come slipping down his hip, so he closes his eyes and relaxes and just basks.

\---

After a while, Arthur stretches, and rolls Merlin gently off him. Merlin gets up on his hands and knees and feels around for their clothes, which is not easy. It appears he has fucked Arthur quite a distance over the floor and partially into a stack of hay, which has tumbled over them and is sticking itchily to him all over.

Merlin hopes their clothes aren't buried in hay as well.

Arthur is also moving around. The lanterns downstairs have gone out, and Merlin can't see what he is doing, but it sounds like limbering exercises.

"That was bloody incredible!" Arthur says cheerfully, when Merlin has found two shirts and two pairs of trousers, and thrown the rougher and more horsey smelling ones at his feet.

"Thanks. You were lovely," Merlin replies honestly, and carefully. Merlin years ago decided that as long as Arthur does not know what he is doing, he doesn't need to know that Merlin knows what he is doing either. "What's your name?"

"Idris," Arthur says. "I'm Idris."

Merlin pulls his clothes on, and considers this. He feels good. He's sore, and itchy, but he feels great. Arthur is also getting dressed, humming under his breath, and not hurrying away.

"Idris," Merlin says. "Perhaps I'll see you next time I've business in the stables."

He gives Arthur a quick kiss goodbye, and climbs down the stairs and leaves, before Arthur has to come up with an excuse to make him do so.

\---

After that, when Arthur sighs and pouts, and flutters his golden lashes in the evening lamp light, and stretches back over his bed just so, with his legs spread and his head tipped back, Merlin thinks of Idris. He thinks of tasting Idris' hard cock, and rubbing its head against his palate, and looks placidly at Arthur when he very slowly and oh so casually pulls off his clothes to hand to Merlin.

He thinks of Idris' sweet lips, and gentle tongue, and how he plunged hard into his mouth and Idris just took it, when Arthur gets the neck hole of his shirt caught on his chin and has to flex his stomach muscles and pectorals, and twist and turn his torso in many attractive poses before he can get it off.

And when Arthur abruptly says "Goodnight, Merlin," as soon as Merlin has put his clothes away, Merlin easily answers "Goodnight, Sire," and thinks of the way Arthur ordered him to take another look at his horse tomorrow, and smiles.


End file.
